What Brothers Are For
by eriphi
Summary: A dangerous rescue has consequences for Virgil and Gordon that will take all of their courage to survive. In the end, though, surviving the rescue may have been the easy part.
1. Chapter 1

_This has been sitting around half-finished for years on my desktop. I have finally turned it into the story it was always meant to be, and I blame the people on Tracy Island Writers Forum and here for encouraging me. Thank you! _

_Massive thanks as always to mcj and freeflow for their beta-expertise. This would not make half as much sense without them. The mistakes that are left are mine._

_Summary: A dangerous rescue has consequences for Virgil and Gordon that will take all of their courage to survive. In the end, though, surviving the rescue may have been the easy part._

_

* * *

__Chapter 1_

"This room's clear too," Virgil reported.

Gordon hit the handheld scanner off a wall. "It still says there could be survivors here."

The room was definitely empty. It was one of the few they had come across that hadn't been damaged by the explosions. Desks and tables were still intact and experiments seemed to be in progress. The only sign that something had happened was the patina of dust that covered every surface. The same dust covered Virgil and Gordon's navy coveralls.

The chemicals in the factory were playing havoc with their scanning devices. Brains had reassured them that there was no sign of dangerous toxins, but the compounds were unstable. "It will make the scanners unreliable. And d...d...don't strike a match," he had recommended.

Virgil and Gordon had rescued fifteen scientists who had been trapped in the main laboratory after the explosion; a fairly simple matter of cutting through rubble to the huddled group. The scanner had then identified five areas as harbouring survivors. Each area had to be checked manually. It was tiring and dirty work without result. This was the last room to check, and it was as empty as the rest.

What made things worse was Scott behaving like a nervous parent. Normally he would let Virgil run the practical issues without too much interference. Today he called every three minutes for an update.

As if on cue, the radio burst into life. "Mobile Control to Thunderbird Two."

Virgil couldn't help sighing as he answered. "Go ahead."

"We've got a deteriorating weather situation here. You guys need to clear out asap."

"That's the last area confirmed clear, Scott. We're on our way. It should only take us 15 minutes to clear the structure."

"FAB." He sounded relieved. "I've picked up some seismic disturbance in your area."

"Great," Gordon muttered. "Earthquakes. All my favourite disasters rolled into one. Explosions in chemical factories, fires, malfunctioning equipment..." He emphasised the last point by hitting the scanner again.

"It seems to have settled for the moment," Scott said. He still sounded concerned.

"Scott," Virgil said seriously. "We're on our way. Stop worrying. We'll be out as soon as we can."

"Be careful."

"We're always careful, aren't we Gordon," Virgil said in a deliberately light tone.

"That's what I'm afraid of. Mobile Control out."

They began to clamber over the rubble and equipment. Now that they didn't have to watch the scanner, they could make better time to the exit.

"Is there a reason he's being especially protective?" Gordon asked.

Virgil shrugged. "Alan would say it's his spidey-sense tingling. Let's just call it Scott's gut instinct and be extra careful."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

As they neared the exit they could hear the storm outside. What had been a threatening cloud-burst seemed closer to a hurricane now, so they put on an extra burst of speed. A flash of lightning lit the sky, followed closely by thunder. The ground rolled under their feet; one of Scott's seismic disturbances. Virgil and Gordon shared a look as the air crackled with static electricity.

They had only managed a few hundred yards before a rumbling echoed around them and through their feet.

"That's not thunder," Gordon said. He put his hand out to steady himself on the wall, but it was shaking as much as the floor.

Scott yelled over the radio, "Get out of there now! I'm getting seismic readings off the scale..."

The world vanished into chaos and dust. Then darkness.

--

"Virgil, Virgil!"

Someone was shouting. He wished they wouldn't. He wanted to just have another five minutes before Scott got him up.

Actually, it didn't sound like Scott at all. Why would Gordon be waking him?

With an effort he cracked his eyes open, and met near darkness and dust filling the air. Reality and memory hit him. He began coughing, and hell, but it hurt! He felt rather than saw Gordon helping him. The steadying hands held him while the coughing settled. His head felt like explosion caught in freeze-frame.

He heard Scott in his ear, "Gordon, report!"

The dust was settling around them. Virgil could see flickering lights of small fires as his vision cleared. "You okay?" Gordon asked quietly.

"Yeah," Virgil said in a croaky whisper. "What happened?"

"Either Brain's unstable chemicals, or Scott's seismic disturbance. I don't know or care which."

Scott's voice was loud again. "Gordon, I'm coming down there."

Gordon's expression fell behind the mask of dust. "Scott," he said into the radio.

"Where the hell are you? What happened?"

"Hey, Scott, we're okay. We got a bit knocked about in that last explosion, but we're both back in the land of the living, aren't we, Virgil?"

"I'm fine now," Virgil answered. He touched his head gingerly to feel the lump beginning to develop.

"Are you hurt?" Scott demanded.

"Like Gordon said, just a bit knocked about. We're ready to go."

Gordon offered a hand and Virgil gladly took the assistance. His legs were steady enough and the fuzziness in his head was clearing. His shoulder started to hurt in earnest. It made him catch his breath, which caused Gordon to look even more panicked.

Virgil brushed him off. "It's okay. Let's go."

As they stumbled on, they could hear Scott reporting to their father. "I'm ready to go. There's a bit of damage to Thunderbird Two. She was closer to the explosion. I can't see much, but it looks like most of the damage on this side is superficial."

"Understood. What are the conditions?"

"Wind speed force 8 and rising. Visibility is about 5 metres. Thunderbird One won't be able to take-off if this gets any worse."

"Virgil?" Jeff asked.

Virgil and Gordon negotiated another obstacle. "Two will manage. She's heavier, and she can cope with the wind better than her little sister. No offence Scott."

"None taken. I'll wait until you're clear before I get under way."

"Don't be an idiot, Scott. We're almost there now. You should go."

Scott hesitated.

"Virgil's right," Gordon agreed. "There is nothing here to wait for. You're the one always telling us not to take risks."

"I can wait."

Virgil had to shout to get his voice to carry over the building noise of the storm. "You need to get Thunderbird One out of here. We'll be after you in a minute."

"They're right," Jeff said. "There is no point putting Thunderbird One at risk. Thunderbird Two can manage the conditions better. Scott, get going now."

"Father, I don't like it," Scott protested.

"It's an order, Scott."

"Understood." He didn't sound pleased, but seconds later the sounds of take off were clear even with the storm.

Gordon was silent for a moment, then grinned and said, "I think we just told Scott what to do."

Virgil didn't have the energy to answer and walk. They still had at least ten minutes of climbing over rubble to get to the exit.

Somehow they managed to reach the doorway without any further mishap, although Virgil found himself relying on Gordon's assistance over the most awkward obstacles. His shoulder had settled into a sharp stabbing pain that took his breath away. It was with relief that he recognised the bulk of Thunderbird Two framed by the doorway.

"Home sweet home," Gordon said. "Or one step nearer in any case."

When they cleared the building, they could see the results of the explosion. All thoughts of pain were driven from Virgil's mind. He rounded on Gordon. "That is not a _bit of damage._"

Gordon didn't answer but stared at the green ship too. The ruined mess of Thunderbird Two's tail section loomed above them and pockmarks littered the ship's starboard side. The largest hole was the size of a laptop computer and there were so many that internal damage was inevitable. Steam came from one of the largest, and even in the rain the smell of jet fuel was heavy in the air.

They were in a lot of trouble, Virgil thought. The weather was getting worse, so they couldn't delay take-off. Seeing this much damage though, he wasn't even sure they would be able to get her off the ground. Their only alternative was to wait next to an industrial plant full of explosive chemicals that had already tried to rip the insides out of his 'bird. Added to that, his headache was nagging, and his fingers were numb. He tried not to think how much that could complicate piloting.

"I hate the rain," Gordon muttered as he pulled the collar of his navy raincoat up around his ears. "Although, now that she looks like a green colander we might not be any better inside."

Trust Gordon to come up with the jokes. It helped, though. Together, they stepped out of the wind and into the relative quiet of Thunderbird Two.

It was almost possible to imagine that there had not been any damage when they were inside. Despite Gordon's fear, no water was leaking into the ship. The pretence of relative harmony lasted until they reached the cockpit.

Every light on the control panel was lit either orange or red. A few weren't even on. Gordon swore. He may not have understood the intricacies of Thunderbird Two the way he did Thunderbird Four, but it was obvious that things were way past "a bit of damage".

Virgil took charge. "Patch me through to home and Scott," he instructed.

Gordon went to work. A relatively simple process was hampered by the shot out relays. Virgil had to ignore him. This was his baby, and he had to get her home. Working mostly with his right hand, he began coaxing power into the damaged system.

The communication panel flicked to life. "Base to Thunderbird Two." Jeff sounded undisturbed.

"We have..." Virgil paused, considering how to describe this, "a situation here."

"Go ahead."

"I need Brains to look at the data I'm sending you." Tersely, Virgil ran through the systems. "There's major structural damage to the hull and tail. Fuel cells are down to .25, I've lost auto-pilot and stabilisers, and the weather conditions are getting worse."

Gordon interrupted, "And tell Scott that this is not _a bit of damage._"

There was a pause on the radio, and Virgil filled it by diverting power down the least damaged wiring on the port side. Gordon began working on the take off protocol, flicking down those switches that could be discarded.

Finally, Jeff said. "Brains is working on the projections you've sent. Gordon, you'll have to tell Scott yourself when you get home. We can't contact him. We think the explosion must have shorted out his transmitter."

Virgil scowled even deeper. Any information in weather conditions like this would be helpful, especially as there was no chance that they could take her above the cloud cover, being unable to pressurise. He rubbed his shoulder absently, then rubbed his hands on the leg of his uniform. His fingers were sticky with blood that the dark jacket was hiding. That at least explained why it was hurting. He distracted himself by sending Gordon under the control to manually re-route one of the more stubborn systems. It was a two handed job that he didn't think he could manage himself. It gave Gordon something to do, too.

"I d...d...don't know if it can be d...d...done," Brains said eventually.

"I've made the repairs I can here and the lights are green. I think we can get her back," Virgil said. He ignored the orange and red lights that were still blinking. They weren't important systems anyway.

"Maybe you could just wait it out," Jeff suggested.

From under the controls, Gordon said, "Sure Dad. Let's wait beside the exploding industrial chemical factory in a ship that has more holes than a tennis net." As if to emphasise the point Thunderbird Two shifted under them as another explosion filled the air.

"It's your call, Virgil," Jeff said.

Gordon poked his head out. He shrugged.

"It's only going to get harder the longer we wait," Virgil said.

Gordon crawled out, and strapped himself in. Under his breath he muttered, "Thunderbirds are go..." as the engines gunned to life.


	2. Chapter 2

_I forgot to say last time, but I can reassure all readers that this story is finished. I will try to post every day, once I have made the changes that my wonderful betas have suggested (mcj and freeflow if you would like to look them up). There will be five chapters in total. _

_Also, thank you for the reviews! They really are better than just about everything! _

_Chapter 2_

Ten minutes later, Gordon wished they had taken their chances with the exploding factory.

Thunderbird Two bucked through the wind and the rain. Her hull groaned in a protest that wasn't drowned out by the sputtering engines and air whistled through a hole in the deck-plating. It was only a matter of time before the whole ship crumbled around them.

Gordon didn't want to admit it, but he was terrified. The numbers on the display and fuel gauge were scary enough. Red and orange lights outnumbered the few green and relays kept shorting out.

But that wasn't the worst of it. What frightened Gordon most was the way that Virgil ignored him. He was staring out of the windscreen into the driving wind as if a force of will could keep them in the air. His right hand was gripped tightly on the yoke and his knuckles were white. Gordon's questions were met with silence.

Virgil's own thoughts were a jumble and he couldn't spare his brother any concentration. His shoulder hurt, but it was nothing to what his beautiful lady was suffering. He felt her torment with every shred of his soul. All he could do was will her forward and make the minute adjustments that kept them in the air. The periphery of his vision kept fading, and he couldn't feel his left arm. But he kept her flying.

Gordon searched out of the port window in a hope of catching a glimpse of Thunderbird One, or home, through the rain. Because he was looking that direction, he saw Virgil's hand slip on the yoke. The craft responded with a lurch and Gordon grabbed the column with more force than was necessary. She bucked the other way.

Slowly Virgil's hand rose back to steer.

Gordon knew his face must be a mask of panic. "Virgil!"

His brother didn't turn, but nodded slightly.

Oh, God, Gordon thought. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Thanks." With a grip as strong as ever, Virgil took the control back, and Thunderbird Two evened herself again.

Gordon couldn't think what to say. He stayed quiet, and watched Virgil instead of the controls. He was white and his breaths came in shallow gasps. He was only using his right hand, and even that was shaking.

Gordon prayed. There was nothing else he could think of to do.

"Tell base it might be a bit untidy," Virgil said as they neared home. His voice was strained.

Gordon opened the radio to the island. He kept his tone steady with an effort. "Thunderbird Two to base."

His father answered. "Go ahead Gordon."

Gordon chose his words with care. "We're on an approach." He wanted to say, 'We're so very, very screwed.'

"Can you manage it?"

Gordon glanced at his brother. Virgil did not seem to hear. His face was lined with pain and a mask of concentration. "I couldn't," Gordon said honestly, "but Virgil might."

"We can," Virgil said simply, "or we never get another shot."

"Understood." Jeff's voice softened. "Are you both alright?"

"We're okay," Virgil said. He took his eyes off the window long enough to look significantly at Gordon. The bruising was coming out now, and with the dark eyes and pale face he looked like a ghost. The message was clear.

"Nothing a cup of coffee won't fix," Gordon lied.

Jeff sighed in relief. "Let me know when you reach visual contact."

"FAB. Thunderbird Two out."

To Gordon, the next ten minutes felt like ten years.

I'm not the right brother to do this, he thought as he willed the ship home. John would be calm and methodical and somehow help Virgil coast home. Scott would organise, and Alan would have one of his flashes of brilliance that would save the day. Instead there was tom-fool Gordon, who was only good for playing jokes and annoying people.

He felt helpless. All he could do was watch and wonder whether the ship would fall apart before her pilot did.

"Base to Thunderbird Two," Jeff said.

Gordon nearly jumped out of his seat. "Go ahead," he said shakily.

"We have you on visual."

Gordon cursed. He had been so busy willing them on that he had missed the reassuring blip of home on the radar.

"Scott's just bringing in Thunderbird One."

"FAB."

"He'll be able to give you some more information about wind speed and weather conditions."

"Yes sir." They were going to need all the help they could get.

"I'll patch him through once he can use the island's radio."

"Understood."

His father signed off.

"Virgil," Gordon said. He didn't know if there was any point.

Virgil nodded. There was bright blood on his lip where clenched teeth had bitten through. He didn't say anything.

"Virgil!" Scott's voice came over the radio. "You're coming in too fast! What are you doing?"

Virgil looked like he hadn't heard.

"The ship is shot to bits," Gordon said.

"You can't land in this wind. Take her to Port Newton."

"We've got no fuel. I don't know how..." Thunderbird Two bucked in a particularly strong gust, "we got this far," Gordon said.

Scott opened another radio link. There was a fast, heated discussion to the island.

"Turn him off," Virgil whispered.

"What?"

But he was back to the window again and did not answer. He looked like he was barely holding it together.

Gordon turned off the radio.

--

"He turned me off!" Scott yelled at no-one in particular. He powered down the engines and ran through the shut-down sequence faster than he had ever done before.

"Gordon did," Jeff said. "But they're okay."

Scott alternated between panic and fury as he ran up the stairs and into Jeff's office. He couldn't work out why Virgil or Gordon would shut down communications. Brains was speaking as Scott hurried in.

"...don't know what he's doing..."

Scott's eye caught on the projection of Tracy Island on Jeff's desk. The flat screen showed the blinking green oval of Thunderbird Two and her course. The line was unerringly straight into the hangar.

Jeff was actually grinning. "He's only got another couple of minutes, then he's home. All he needs to do is carry on."

"But what is he d...d...doing?" Brains asked. "All my calculations say he ran out of fuel fifteen minutes ago."

Scott took in the figures on the bottom of the screen showing Thunderbird Two's status. If those projections were to be believed, she should be somewhere at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. "He's using the wind and coasting like a bird. He's only using fuel for course changes." It was the only way it could be done.

"Wow," said Alan quietly.

Could they do it Scott wondered? The term his air force buddies had for it was seat of the pants. You had to trust your aircraft so much that you flew by feel. Scott didn't think he could have managed it in Thunderbird One. He trusted his ship, but she was temperamental and he knew the relationship was of master to ship. He flew by his instruments and intellect. Virgil flew with his gut.

"All the blast doors are closed," Jeff said. "Fire suppression units on standby. Would you man the infirmary Brains?"

"ETA two minutes," Alan said. The wind and rain battered the windows.

--

The island was visible now. The lights were bright even in the rain. The flight had become rockier as crosswinds bore down on them. Gordon could only hang on.

Suddenly the ship bucked. All pretence of stability was lost, and they were at the mercy of the full force of the wind. Gordon's initial fear was that they had lost a wing.

He turned to yell at Virgil to do something, anything... when he realised the truth.

"Virgil!" he yelled over the noise of the alarms and falling equipment.

Virgil was slumped unconscious in the harness. He didn't move. Gordon screamed again, this time it was an inarticulate yell of rage as he fought the control in his hands. Virgil shook his head slightly and his eyes blinked open. Gordon nearly cried.

"Please, Virgil, we're nearly there. I promise. You need to land. She won't listen to me."

Virgil took the control. His hands shook more than the ship, but she calmed under the familiar touch.

"I can't see it," Virgil whispered, and if Gordon was worried before, he was petrified now.

"What do I do?"

"Tell me."

Gordon reeled off directions and somehow Virgil knew. He looked almost transparent. Gordon knew he was fighting off oblivion and he looked like death. There was something very wrong.

"Landing gear down," Gordon said, and of all the scary things today, this was the worst; being flown into a cave with five metre clearance left and right by a barely conscious pilot. He wanted to call Scott or his father and prepare them, but he was afraid to break the spell that had kept them alive all this time.

The wind gave one last gust that shook them, but it was half-hearted. Then they were on solid ground. Gordon felt the reassuring thrum of the wheels on asphalt and they were down.

The radio burst into life. "You're going too fast," Scott shouted, and Gordon was on his own. Virgil couldn't fight the blackness anymore. He had flown them home, now Gordon had to get them to stop.

In the end it was a combination of Gordon hitting the brakes and the fire suppression foam that Alan released that halted Thunderbird Two just metres from the back wall.

"My God, Virgil, that was brilliant," Scott said over the radio. "Landing was a bit ropey, but considering..."

Gordon unclipped his harness.

"Virgil! Virgil!" There was no answer and he clambered over the seat to his brother. Virgil was unconscious in the harness. Gordon fumbled to find a pulse; it was there, but weak and too fast.

Scott was still talking in the background. Gordon interrupted. "I need Brains now!"

"What's happened?"

"He's hurt."

"But the landing was great."

Gordon growled in frustration. He could understand Scott's confusion, but now was not the time for explanations.

"We're on our way." Scott said. He hadn't waited for a reply.

"Virgil," Gordon said again as he untied the pilot's harness. "Virgil, come on, I'm not good at this..."

Gently he eased his big brother onto the cockpit floor. He was nearly sick. The chair was soaked in blood, as were his hands. A pool of blood was forming on the floor.

No wonder he looked white, Gordon though, that must be... he stopped the thought. There was no use going down that route.

The wound was obvious. The dark coverall had hidden the blood, but the uniform underneath was almost entirely dark red.

It must have happened in the last explosion, Gordon guessed as he checked Virgil's pulse again.

His eyes flickered open. "Gordon," he whispered. "Did we do it?"

Gordon smiled what he hoped was a reassuring grin. "You did."

Virgil smiled back wanly and his eyes began to close.

"Hey" Gordon said, and he was sure the worry was loud in his voice. "Virgil, stay with me."

"Tired."

"I know. You're in shock. You lost tons..." he paused. "You lost blood from your shoulder."

"I never... said."

"I guessed. It was hard to miss. Stay with me a bit longer. Scott and Dad are coming."

"It's cold," Virgil said and his eyes began to close again.

Gordon had seen enough injury and death to do his whole life. And he knew this was going badly. The wound was still bleeding despite the pressure he was applying. A new pool of blood was trailing out to the floor. He resorted to bribery. "I'll get a blanket for you if you keep talking."

"Scott, I can't," Virgil whispered, then his eyes flew open in panic and he grasped for Gordon's hand.

"What is it?"

But he did not answer and Gordon knew something bad was happening because of the death grip on his hand.

"Alan!" Gordon yelled into the radio.

Alan answered. "Gordon? What happened?"

Gordon interrupted. "Get Scott down here now. If they're not on their way..."

"Calm down Gordy," Alan said easily. "They'll be with you any second. What's the big rush? And what a piece of flying!"

"Alan," Gordon said calmly, although it was difficult to be calm when Virgil was struggling for each breath. "Go and prep the infirmary. Now."

It was a mark of how serious he sounded that Alan didn't argue.

Virgil had calmed again, but he was barely conscious. Gordon was aware of talking as he held his hand and willed him to wait a little longer.

Suddenly, Virgil opened his eyes again. Each breath was now a careful sigh. The blood was dark on the floor. "Do you hear her," Virgil said.

Gordon's heart sank. "Hear who?"

"Playing the piano," and his eyes closed.

Gordon didn't notice Scott and Brains as they crashed into the cockpit. He didn't hear them as they worked, or their frantic questions. Jeff appeared moments later, and they talked above Gordon's head.

"He's lost too much blood."

"Chest wound. I guess clipped the sub-clavian."

"Infirmary. Now."

Gordon felt the limp hand removed from his, then he was kneeling on the floor alone.

Well, not truly alone.

"Gordon," his father said. "What the hell happened?"

Gordon looked at Jeff. He couldn't understand why his eyesight had become so blurred.

"He didn't say," Gordon said. "I never asked. I should have guessed."

He ran his hand over his face and they came away wet again. Blood and tears.

"What happened Gordon?" Jeff asked again.

Gordon stared at the wall as he explained. "He was knocked out in the explosion, but he was fine, I swear. It must have happened then, but he didn't say."

"And he piloted?"

"He only slipped once, and I thought... I thought it was just because he was tired."

Gordon started to pull himself on the armrest until Jeff offered him a hand up. "Come on, you need to get washed up."

"But I need to see him."

"He's not going anywhere in that state. Get washed and changed and I'll call you if anything happens."

"I want to know if he's alright."

Jeff smiled. "You'll be the first I tell."

Gordon didn't want to go, but Jeff ordered him into the shower. He was glad that he had when Scott called over the intercom. Scott was no stranger to emergencies, but he sounded shaken by something. Jeff knew the last thing Gordon needed to hear was Scott sounding worried.


	3. Chapter 3

_These two chapters are short, so I'll post them together. I tried joining them, but I think this works better. _

_Chapter 3_

Jeff found Scott outside the infirmary. There were muddy footprints on the floor where he had been pacing. "Dad!" he said. "What the hell happened?"

With an effort Jeff kept his voice calm. "Gordon doesn't know. I sent him to get cleaned up. What did Brains say?"

"He didn't say anything! He threw me out." Scott was almost shouting and started to pace again. "He could be dying!"

Jeff hated seeing him so agitated. Scott could accept any danger that the job demanded with a cool head and professionalism far beyond his years. He knew there were times when things were out of a person's control. But if one of his brothers was in trouble, he needed to fix it the way he had when they were children. And if he couldn't, this was the result. It made Jeff's heart ache.

He put a hand out to touch his son's arm, but he flinched as though the contact hurt.

"Brains said that he'd been bleeding and that his blood pressure was too low, and he was going to have to..." Scott rubbed his hands across his eyes, then took a slow breath. "Sorry," he said.

"It's okay."

Scott gave a small self-deprecating laugh that seemed to ground him again. "Yeah. Brains told me to get out, said I was just getting in the way. Tin Tin's there to help him, and I sent Alan to stabilise Thunderbird two."

"So we just have to wait."

Scott kicked the door frame before sitting on his heels. "Yeah. Wait."

It was only five minutes before the swing door to the infirmary opened, but it felt like an age. Brains was dressed in green surgical scrubs with blood on his gloves. "Mr Tracy," he said.

"How is he?" Jeff demanded before Brains could say anything more. Scott looked up from his place on the floor.

Brains shrugged. "It will be touch and g...g...go for a while. I would rather he were transferred to a proper medical facility."

"I don't want to put any of the ships in the air."

"I understand, b...b...but it may be necessary. The next few hours are critical. D...d...do you have any idea of what happened?"

Jeff told them what Gordon had said. "Gordon thought he must have been injured in the initial explosion."

"Are you sure it wasn't when Thunderbird Two was in the air?"

"Gordon didn't seem to think so."

Brains looked incredulous. "I am not sure that is p...p...possible."

"Why?" Scott asked.

"Because his chest cavity was full of b...b...blood. I've put a d...d...drain in at the moment, but his b...b...blood pressure was so low that he can't have been able to see, let alone fly. It is highly unlikely that he could have flown with an injury so severe."

"Can we see him?" Scott asked.

Brains nodded once. "You will have to clean up before you go past the quarantine, b...b...but things are stable enough for the moment."

Scott hadn't even waited for the scientist to finished speaking. He moved past Brains and into the Infirmary. The quarantine bay was protected by a glass window. He stood looking through at his brother.

Jeff felt his heart chill. Virgil was attached to monitors that bleeped, as well as two drips. A large bore tube dripped blood stained fluid into a bag hanging on the side of the bed. Over the noise of the machines, he thought he heard footsteps behind him.

"The monitors are routine," Brains explained. "He's getting analgesia and a sedative in the d...d...drips at the moment. His vitals are improving slowly, but I can't tell if there is any lasting d...d...damage."

"That's the chest drain," Scott said. He pointed at the largest tube.

"I am using it to d...d...drain fluid from the lung space, so it should improve his b...b...breathing quite soon. The fluid has to be replaced," he indicated the blood transfusion, "at the same rate, so I am afraid it is slow p...p...progress at the moment."

"Has he woken up?"

"No, and I wouldn't want him to. Not yet."

Jeff nodded.

"I will monitor things closely tonight. I hope a medical evac. will not be necessary, b...b...but it will depend on many factors."

"Understood," Jeff said. He turned when he heard the footsteps behind them hurrying away. Gordon's hair was still damp from the shower and he had thrown on old clothes, but it was hard to tell much else from the back. "Gordon?"

"Sorry, Dad, I can't..." He couldn't complete the sentence and didn't turn around.

"Did you hear?"

"Mostly," Gordon admitted. "I've got to go." He left without looking back.

Scott stared back into the quarantine room.

Jeff was torn between his two sons. In the end, he resolved to speak to Gordon. He found him where expected; in the pool swimming lengths. He was still there an hour later. Jeff watched for as long as could, and then Alan told him that Brains needed to see him. Jeff left Gordon still furiously ploughing through the water.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

It was dark, but the bedside light reflected on two shining eyes. "Am I glad to see you," Scott said.

Virgil blinked and seemed to allow his head to clear. A look of urgency passed over his face. "Thunderbird Two. What happened to her? I don't remember."

Scott couldn't help the grin that split his face. You had to get worried about Virgil when he wasn't fretting about his ship.

"She's pretty shook up, but nothing a little elbow grease won't cure."

That seemed to reassure him, and Scott was glad to see his expression settle until he remembered something else. "Is Gordon alright?"

Scott couldn't help laughing.

"I take it that's good news." Virgil said, allowing his own small smile to emerge.

"He's fine, apart from a hell of a scare, and only wanting to go on space rescues from now on. Of course that will be before…"

"Before what?"

"Before he realises that you asked about Thunderbird Two first."

"He'll live," Virgil answered.

"And everyone else is fine. It's you we were worried about. Are you feeling okay?"

Virgil shrugged and considered his answer. "Yeah, I'm alright."

"Headache? Tired? Sore shoulder?"

"Well, all of those things too."

"Brains left you painkillers," Scott indicated the small plastic pot with three white pills in the bottom.

"It's not bad enough for pills," Virgil said.

"Well, your face is telling lies."

Virgil snorted. "I'll just sleep a bit then."

Scott shook his head. People always said that Scott was the most stubborn and that John would put his foot down and not be shifted. Alan and Gordon could be just as obstinate. But ask any of the four of them, and they would say Virgil. He was easy going young man, but once Virgil decided to make a stand, there was nothing to be done. Just because he didn't do it very often, didn't mean he wasn't good at it.

He closed his eyes, but Scott knew that he wasn't sleeping.

"Scott," he said eventually.

"Yeah."

"I don't remember what happened." His eyes were less clear now, and dulled with pain.

"Well Virgil Tracy, I shall tell you a tale. It begins on a cold, dark night..."

It was the old prelude to the stories that Scott would tell to Virgil in the evenings after their mother died. In those dark days, Jeff and John withdrew into themselves and the two younger boys stayed in Grandma's sanctuary. Scott and Virgil had each other, and it was Scott who chased away the nightmares.

He did it now the same way, in a gentle sing-song voice.

Virgil relaxed and his eyes drifted closed for real.

--

"How is he?" Jeff asked as daylight slipped through the curtains. His night had been sleepless again. He worried.

Scott was dozing in the armchair, but his father's entrance woke him. "He was awake a couple of hours ago. He asked about Thunderbird Two and Gordon, then went back to sleep."

"How did he seem?"

"He was sore, but didn't want any of the tablets. I don't think he even noticed the chest drain."

"That was probably a good thing," Jeff said.

"I didn't really want to discuss it at 4am."

Jeff put down a pile of paperwork he had been working on. "Did he tell you anything about what happened?" Gordon still had not been able to expand any further. Jeff worried that it was because he didn't want to, rather than because he didn't know.

"He said he didn't remember."

"Brains expected something like that."

Scott seemed less convinced.

"Go and have a sleep. I'll call you if he wakes up again."

"Thanks." Scott didn't want to leave, but he had to acknowledge his father's entitlement to sit with his son. He resolved to have a shower and clean up a bit, before inspecting the work on patching up Thunderbird Two's damaged port side.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you so much for the reviews. They are great, and so much fun. After I post, I find myself clicking the refresh button every 20 seconds, and revelling in the thrill of a review in my inbox. _

_I know my opinion on Tracy birth order is not everyone's. I hope it won't be too jarring for people who don't feel the same, and the reference is so small it could probably be ignored._

_This is the final chapter, where we get some comfort to go with all the hurt we have had before (else it wouldn't be called hurt/comfort, would it?). Not so much action now as brotherly bonding..._

_Chapter 5_

Two days later it was Alan who mentioned the way Gordon was behaving. Scott was so busy worrying about one brother, he hadn't realised that something wasn't right.

"You know," Alan said as he made breakfast, "Gordon's been avoiding Virgil."

Scott responded with an automatic, "No."

"He is. You watch. He hasn't gone to the infirmary since Thursday night, and he didn't say anything then either."

"I hadn't noticed."

"He's doing it quietly," Alan said as he buttered a fourth slice of toast. "He thinks we haven't noticed."

"Has Virgil realised?"

"He's asleep a lot of the times I visit, so I guess he might just think he's missing him."

Scott sighed. "He'll figure it out."

"I know. I just wanted to let you know before he does."

"Did you speak to Gordon?"

Alan put down the toast. "I tried to, but he made some excuse about being tired. I'm no good at this kind of mediation."

"In normal circumstances, I would have asked Virgil to speak to him."

"Being youngest is crappy sometimes, but being in the middle has got to have its negatives too."

"Like being the one who understands all of us. I'll speak to Gordon."

"Good luck, big brother." Alan finished his toast.

-

Gordon was, of all things, tidying his room. That in itself would have made Scott suspicious, but the dark rings under his eyes were even more worrying.

"Gordon," Scott said.

The red-head looked up, almost guiltily, from the paperwork he was sorting.

"Are you alright? You're tidying your room."

Gordon shrugged. "It needed to be done."

"I don't doubt it." Gordon's room was notorious as a cesspit of mess.

"What are you looking through?"

Gordon shrugged again, but didn't answer.

"Alan said you're avoiding Virgil."

"Cut to the quick, eh?" Gordon said. Instead of shutting down, though, he almost smiled. "When you send Virgil to have this conversation he says something prickly and I think, how can he know that? But I like your way too."

"So?" Scott prompted.

Gordon picked up a sheet of paper and studied it as he talked. "I know I'm avoiding him, and I don't know why. Or rather I do know and I can't decide which reason it is. I'm angry at him, I think that's the biggest thing. He didn't tell me, or he didn't trust me, and he was hurt and we could have died."

Scott started to speak, but Gordon interrupted.

"I could have helped, and he didn't say. So I'm angry, but I've no reason because everything worked out. And I'm scared and I keep running it in my mind, and I can't sleep and if I do I dream about being in that cockpit." He put the paper down with too much restraint. "I don't know what I'd say to him, Scott."

Scott didn't know how to answer.

With finality, Gordon said, "I'll think about it."

-

Scott tried Virgil next.

He was still too pale, but Brains had removed the chest drain that morning and there was only one IV line. Definitely improving.

Scott was just trying to think of something to say, when Virgil said, "How is Gordon?"

Scott answered truthfully as he pulled up the easy chair. "He's been better."

"But is he okay? I haven't seen him since... you know."

"He came in before you woke up." Scott didn't say when 'we thought you might die.'

"But not since then," Virgil ran his good hand through his hair. "He's avoiding me. Why?"

"He doesn't know what to say."

Virgil nodded slowly. They he changed the subject. "When can I get up? I'm going crazy here. Brains keeps coming in and turning on the TV."

"I could bring you a book."

Virgil opened the bedside cabinet to a pile of novels. They had the slightly dog-eared appearance of Alan's books, cracks in the spines, and all. "That wasn't what I asked," Virgil said.

"I don't know. You should be resting. You'll have to ask Brains or Dad."

"They're just as slippery."

"Then perhaps they don't know yet." Scott said it so forcefully that Virgil turned to face him straight on. "You nearly died. So do as they say. No sneaking out."

Virgil smiled guiltily. "Yes, sir."

-

Virgil worried about Gordon all day and things were worse by evening. When there was someone with him he could push the thoughts away, but being on his own made him feel fretful. The pain from the chest drain site helped distract him, but even that wasn't enough.

He understood why Gordon wouldn't come. Especially as he had lied when he'd said he couldn't remember anything about the flight home. What he could recall was a muddle of pain and the strong feeling that he couldn't admit that there might be a problem.

His biggest concern was that Gordon was hurt. Perhaps he had been hurt in the same explosion and no one would tell him. Logically, he knew this was foolish. His father, Scott, John, Alan, Kyrano, Tin Tin and Grandma couldn't all be spinning a lie. But the thought stuck and he couldn't shake it free. He had even asked Alan straight out, and he was such a bad liar that he believed him.

But the worry for his brother was still there. Almost, Virgil thought to himself, because it was easier to believe that Gordon couldn't see him, than that he didn't want to. That was intolerable and it ate at him as well.

Brains had said goodnight and left the pills on the bedside cabinet. Virgil rooted through the small pile for the antibiotics and swallowed them dry.

He needed to see Gordon, and if he wouldn't come here, then he would go to him.

Gordon Tracy sat in his newly tidied bedroom with his knees drawn up. He thought about what Scott had said and what Alan had hinted at.

He had tried to tease the reasons for his reluctance and in the end they came to two things. He was angry and mixed up by the whole episode and hadn't got it straight in his mind yet. He worried that seeing Virgil might lead to a confrontation that wouldn't be good for either of them. The second reason was more pragmatic. Virgil was in the infirmary, and Gordon didn't like hospitals.

Nevertheless, he knew he needed to go and he had resolved to go tonight, while his brother would be sleeping. Just to start things off gently.

-

Virgil was starting to think this might not have been such a good idea. He had managed to make his way Brains' room, but he wasn't sure how much further he could walk.

He hurt like hell. His arm, his chest and the whole of his left side felt as though it were on fire, but that wasn't the worst of it. The pain was good because it meant he could be distracted from the fact that he couldn't breathe. He stumbled and landed on his knees.

He was torn between wishing Brains was away so he wouldn't be caught, but also hoping that someone would hear him and put him out of his misery. Who would have thought that climbing a little set of stairs would be as bad as this? He was starting to think about the thirty second walk to Gordon's room the same way he did complex rescue missions.

Getting out of bed and capping off the IV had been easy. Even walking through the infirmary was okay. The big mistake had been reaching out with his arm to open the door. It felt like something burst in his shoulder and he vomited the little he had eaten into the hand-washing sink at the door. Perhaps taking the painkillers would have been a good idea, but they would have made him drowsy and probably sent him straight to sleep.

The breathlessness started on the first stair and by the time he reached the top (after a pause in the middle) it was worse than the pain.

So this is what dying feels like, a small part of his brain said. If he could have, he would have knocked on Brain's door and gone back to the infirmary and let Gordon stew in his own juices.

Just when it seemed as if it could get no worse, it began to ease. His breath came back in hesitant gasps. Of course, once the breathing eased, the pain came back with a vengeance. He pulled himself up to his knees then to one foot. He paused there to collect himself and allow the nausea to settle.

And he had flown Thunderbird two in this state! Although it was probably worse then. At least now he didn't have the blackness around his vision.

One step at a time. It was easier now that he was on the level and he found he could almost manage without leaning on the wall. By the time he reached Gordon's room he was considering himself very fortunate.

The last thing he expected to find was Gordon's door open and his brother gone.

-

The last thing Gordon expected to find was Virgil's bed empty and his brother gone.

It was a bad moment. The hush of the infirmary, coupled with the smell of disinfectant made Gordon ready to panic. He didn't do hospitals and he was on edge enough without Virgil going missing.

He stood at the door and watched the computer flash as the IV fluids dripped onto the floor. The bag was almost empty. There were too many thoughts flying through his head to try and catch just one. Virgil had got sick, he'd run away, he'd died...

Deliberately, he slowed his breathing and tried to collect his wits. There was no reason to expect the worse. The bag wasn't empty, so Virgil couldn't have left long ago. There was also no way that Brains could have organised a medical evac. without waking someone. So that left sneaking out. Knowing Virgil, he would have crept to Scott's room if something was bothering him. Gordon knew the thing bothering Virgil would be him.

He turned off the drip and wiped the puddle of saline with hand towels. Satisfied that the room was returned to a normal state he slipped back up the stairs. He needed to speak to Virgil now, or he would never get over the scare of finding the infirmary empty.

He'd steeled himself and knocked Scott's door.

The face that answered was alone.

"Gordon," Scott said. He looked as alert as ever, but the hair and boxers gave away the fact that he had been asleep.

Gordon peered into the room past Scott's shoulder. It was dark, but as pristine as ever. Moonlight shone onto the chest of drawers with two photo frames. The bed covers were untidy, but that was the only thing. There was no sign of Virgil.

"Emm," Gordon mumbled.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Gordon lied. "I was..." he stumbled over the words, "going to see Virgil."

"He was asleep when I left the infirmary. Don't wake him up."

"I won't."

Scott smiled. "I'm glad you're going."

"Yeah." Gordon turned to leave.

"Why are you going that way?"

Scott thought that Gordon was going the infirmary, so he was facing the wrong direction. Years of thinking on his feet made him a practiced liar. "I left my slippers."

Scott glanced at the bare feet, seemed about to say something, then thought better of it.

"Goodnight Scott," Gordon said cheerfully.

Scott looked only slightly suspicious as Gordon walked down the corridor.

He decided to go back to his room anyway. The he would check at the piano and Thunderbird Two's hangar. Both would exert a pull on his elder brother and either would be enough to drag his sorry ass out of a sickbed without permission. If Gordon couldn't find him in either of those places he would raise the alarm. He didn't like to think that Virgil might be hurt somewhere.

He nearly didn't turn the lights on in his room. It was newly tidied and he could find his slippers tucked under the bed in the dark as well as illuminated. He couldn't explain what made him switch them on. Perhaps it was habit, or the fact that his heart rate still hadn't returned to normal after the scare in the infirmary.

The sleeping form on his bed was as much a surprise as finding the infirmary empty. For an instant all he saw was the still form hunched in on itself and he was back in Thunderbird Two. The helplessness flooded back and he was terrified.

Then Virgil opened his eyes and blinked. He smiled wanly, then shrugged. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Gordon thought about raging, then reconsidered. "I looked for you," he said.

"I needed to talk."

"I thought you'd be talking to Scott."

"Oh, hell. You didn't tell him I wasn't in the infirmary." Virgil sounded worried, and Gordon couldn't help giving the feral grin that could mean 'yes' or 'no', to pay back for making him worry. Then he relented and pointed his finger at Virgil's knee. "He thought I was on my way to the infirmary, not coming back. Your secret is safe."

Virgil sighed in relief. "He threatened to double my stay if I tried any escapology."

Gordon grinned. He had expected to feel angry, but he knew Virgil had a right to feel the same. They sat in silence.

At last Gordon said. "Scott told us you don't remember what happened."

Virgil shrugged with his good arm. "I, I remember some."

Gordon turned and fixed his brother with a fierce stare. Gordon was the fabricator of the family. He was the only one of the five who could tell you that the sky was orange and that rain fell upwards without giving it away.

Virgil had never been a good liar, and he knew it. "I think I remember it all, but it's a bit of a muddle," he admitted. He stared at his hands. Outside a branch hit the window in the tail of the storm.

"The last thing I remember clearly is the explosion. I remember Scott yelling and you waking me up. It gets really fuzzy after we got to the ship." He paused and raised his hand to the bandages.

The silence deepened. Gordon examined his brother as his gaze was far away. He was pale in the moonlight, but the dark eyes were bright. He was frowning. Gordon was afraid to disturb the memories.

Eventually, Virgil said, "I'm sorry."

Gordon shouldn't have been surprised. Virgil always had had a way of knowing what needed to be said. Gordon could have acknowledged it. He should have refuted that it was necessary. Instead he stayed quiet.

"I should have said something," Virgil continued. He didn't seem to expect any response from Gordon. "I would have been frightened to death."

"I was. A bit." Gordon admitted. He knew he would never admit it to anyone again. He put a hand on Virgil's. "I guess you weren't thinking straight."

"Not really."

"And all you could think about was getting home."

Virgil nodded.

"One more question," Gordon asked quietly. "When did you know you were hurt?"

Virgil took some time to answer. "I think I realised properly just before I passed out. I was trying so hard to ignore it. I just wanted to get home."

"I thought so."

"There was one more thing," Virgil said. He sounded tired again, which was no wonder after the exertions of the evening. "I'm glad it was you."

Gordon didn't understand.

"I mean, you. And not Scott, or John or Alan. You did good."

The pride that settled in Gordon washed away the guilt of the past few days. He felt the smile creep onto his face. "Thanks," he said. He felt tired too.

Virgil was even more exhausted. He tried to stand, but looked ready to collapse. Gordon bundled him back into the bed and covered him gently with the blanket. He was asleep before his head touched the pillow.

Gordon left the door ajar as he crept back to the infirmary. He left a note on the door telling Brains where to look in the morning.

When he came back to his own room, Virgil was still asleep. Gordon settled himself onto the comfy chair. For the first time in three nights he slept properly. The nightmares were chased away for good.

_end_


End file.
